


Ink Stains

by catinabox



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Body Paint, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11060988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catinabox/pseuds/catinabox
Summary: Wet paint in wet dreams.





	Ink Stains

**Author's Note:**

> So this was originally a short drabble I wrote with a bunch of drunk friends in the discord. And then I decided to expand on it and…here we are. If some of it sounds lucid, that’s probably because it's supposed to. I hate tenses, btw. 
> 
> Enjoy!

This is a dream. It has to be because there’s no actual way in hell Yusuke would ever be doing this with _him_ , of all people.

The paintbrush is wet and sticky as Yusuke paints broad strips all over Ryuji’s chest and torso, the pattern unfamiliar to Ryuji if there was any that Yusuke’s going for. His eyes, hooded and partially hidden by the shadows of Ryuji’s room, gleam wildly, as if Yusuke’s been possessed by someone else. Perhaps this wasn’t even Yusuke, but his Persona with how the blue-grey of Yusuke’s eyes seem oddly yellow-gold, but Ryuji's too focused on the pressure from Yusuke’s ass around his dick to pay any attention to such minor details.

Holy _shit_ , though, is this ever a fucking dream. Yusuke isn't even moving, but he can hear him panting above him as if just having Ryuji inside him is enough to satisfy him. It has to be a dream, because usually when Ryuji dreams of people-who-aren’t-Yusuke, they’d be moving or he’d be moving or--

“Ryuji."

Fuck. Pay attention. Yusuke’s voice sounds hoarse, his fingers gripping his paintbrush tightly as he sweeps over Ryuji’s pectorals, over collarbones, and Ryuji can feel his dick twitch inside Yusuke as the other male moves slightly so he could pass the brush's tip under his jaw.

He isn't allowed to touch Yusuke, he'd decided; it wasn’t something explicitly said to him when they’d started, but for some reason...Ryuji couldn’t bring himself to move his hands over bony hips or grip at those pale thighs. (Not yet.) 

He wanted to though, god did he ever. 

Yusuke murmurs something quiet, something Ryuji misses, before Yusuke repeats it louder. It echoes, it reverberates through the quiet room.

“You look...so beautiful like this…” It sounds so reverent, like Yusuke's looking at someone who could actually be _considered_ beautiful, and god why was this just a dream? 

Ryuji could feel his heart catch in his throat, feels his eyes close shut as lips brush against his forehead. He could feel Yusuke’s paintbrush being dropped on the floor, thin fingers finally grazing his cheekbones, his lips and god, that warm pressure from Yusuke feels like it's closing all around him.

So warm, so safe. Ryuji could stay like this, stay inside Yusuke’s warmth, forever. What was stopping him, why would he ever leave this?

If Yusuke wanted to, as long as…

“Ryuji—“ Yusuke sounds out of breath, his fingers grasping at the sheets beneath them. It takes Ryuji a moment to realize he’s been unconsciously rolling his hips up into Yusuke, small minute rolls that draw soft moans from the taller male. Ryuji opens his eyes, drinking in the sight of Yusuke moving against him. 

God what a sight Yusuke is, so close that Ryuji could feel Yusuke’s breath wash over his face. His pale skin looks so flushed with exertion, like if he stops moving, the dream will come to a close. (God, he doesn’t want it to, though.) The smell of ink hangs in the air; it’s what Yusuke usually smells like and, _damnit_ , Ryuji can feel himself draw closer to release because remembering the real Yusuke sets his nerves on fire and yet…

And yet.

“Yusuke,” Ryuji exhales and Yusuke slows his movements down enough that Ryuji can finally see the flutter of Yusuke’s lashes against his skin, can hear the sheets near his ears rustle with how hard Yusuke’s clenching them. He can feel his own fingers slowly letting go of the sheets, uncurling with a need to touch Yusuke the way Yusuke’s been touching him this whole time. “Yusuke…” His repeat is stronger, firmer, enough to make Yusuke press his forehead against Ryuji’s, lips so close Ryuji could feel them if he just tilted his chin up.

So he does, and Yusuke shakes against him, pulling his breath away from Ryuji’s lungs in the most aching manner and _fuck_ , the shuddering makes everything else around them shudder visibly as Ryuji pulls Yusuke closer, closer until the rest of their bodies finally touch for the first time. 

The paint on Ryuji smears, the black lines running against each other and marring Yusuke’s skin with dark smudges. His cock glides more smoothly in and out of Yusuke as he deepens their kiss, not even a kiss anymore with how Yusuke’s trying to steal all the air out of Ryuji. 

They’re both greedy and Yusuke’s hands, covered in the sticky-wet paint, cup Ryuji’s jaw to touch and touch and…

Ryuji doesn’t even remember when he started touching Yusuke’s dick in return, but that’s the beauty of a dream, the convenience of jumping ahead to when they’re both groaning into each other’s mouths as they both come with identical shudders. Yusuke’s so warm around him, so warm when his breathing stutters against his lips.

It’s almost too perfect.

\----

Ryuji wakes up with a raspy cough, shooting up from his covers. His head feels so hazy, but in a good way, like he just ran longer than he thought he could. His heart’s still racing as he tries to remember bits and pieces of that dream, that amazing dream. 

(God, was it something, alright...)

He takes a couple of breaths before realizing just how sticky his boxers feel against his skin with a grimace. As he pushes the sheets off his bed to peel them off, his phone began to vibrate noisily from his nightstand.

The blond checks the time. 

It’s 2 in the morning. Who in their right mind would bother calling him this late, on a school night of all nights?

A quick check of the called ID tells him. 

He licks his lips. (He can almost imagine the smell of ink against his skin.)

It’s Yusuke. Of course, it’s him.

It’s both a surprise and…not, especially when Ryuji considers the dream he just had about the artist. He swipes the screen to answer the call and presses the earpiece to his ear.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late,” Yusuke starts and there’s a breathlessness that isn’t lost to Ryuji, no matter how sleepy he feels. He can hear movement in the background, tries to focus in on it, but it’s what Yusuke says next that he pays extra attention to.

“I was wondering, because I was…struck with such inspiration at this hour and you came to mind first, if you’d allow me paint you.”

Ryuji inhales slowly. It’s 2 in the morning. He has to get up in a few hours and look Yusuke and the rest of their friends in the eye later today, remember the way Yusuke looked while riding him and looked at _him_ like he belonged to Yusuke and only Yusuke.

He can hear the uncertainty hanging from Yusuke’s end, as if he’s scared that Ryuji will decline and for a long moment, Ryuji considers saying no…but… 

(He couldn’t deny his own curiosity, couldn’t deny Yusuke sincerely when he sounded _this_ desperate.)

“…Fine. I’ll do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at @coffeol on tumblr~


End file.
